Ixion bashed his hand on the table
'Think! Think!'
This would be the second joke that slipped from his grasp!
'Ah! Damn it!'
The jester screamed as she deftly jumped around the table, dodging plates and silverware.
"Ixion, Ixion! An assassin, king, and fool walk into a dining hall to eat a big cake…"
'No… no, she wouldn't.'
'She wouldn't steal a joke from me!'
The jester stopped until she stood right before him, then bent over and said:
"But only one person walked in!"
Ixion looked up at the jester and straight into her cleavage.
"Two out of five!"
The jester wiggled left to right, causing her breasts to sway.
"No… No, you wouldn't! You wouldn't dislike a joke of mine. Oh gods, oh gods! Lord of Truth, Lord of Truth, am I not funny? Am I a useless fool?!"
The jester somersaulted and landed on the table before Lot, who'd been set in his own chair.
The parrot with a dubious expression started twitching, then screamed:
"Fuck you!"
The jester flung her hand and hit her head.
"Ah! Noooo…"
She stumbled back and fell off the table, landing in the open seat next to Sebastian; the poor Lord Chamberlain, who now sat in between Zabaniyah and the jester.
Ixion grumbled.
'Ah, how I envy his seat!'
Between two women who could take even the King's breath away.
Ixion smiled and looked over the motley crew as he waited for his cake to be prepared.
The table was long, but they sat only at one end. Ixion sat at the head of the table with Runa and the Lord of Truth on his right and the aforementioned three on his left.
Finally, there was a sixth, uninvited but unwelcome guest, Cecelia Wreath, the Chancellor of War.
Thankfully, her temper was being contained at the moment, but she'd appeared upon hearing a mysterious woman with long black hair was walking with King Ixion,
Cecelia, among the few who knew Zabaniyah and the even fewer who knew her well, had immediately recognized the potential threat her open presence posed and set off to investigate.
Hence, her appearance and watching over them.
Ixion called out to the woman:
"Cecelia, come join us! Our cake should be out any moment!"
The chancellor, who'd only recently left the confines of her room after calming down from being humiliated by Ixion, adjusted her neatly braided amber hair and rested a hand on the pommel of her sheathed blade.
The woman scowled.
"No thank you, Ixion."
The jester, whose head was resting against the back of the chair, shot forward. From underneath the table, the jester drew the rapier and pointed it at Cecelia.
"Thou doth not recognize the great Ixion as King?! Oh, how knowledgeable and smart you are, Mrs. War!"
Runa and Sebastian flipped their terrified gazes between the two before their pleading eyes settled on each other, as if the other could provide an answer to the absurdity.
Ixion watched their horrified gazes with amusement before drawing his attention back to the jester.
The jester who began mimicking the knighting ritual lifted the rapier and dropped it while pointing it at Cecelia. When she finished, she tossed the blade over her head.
At that same moment, the door leading to the kitchen flung open, and the rapier landed on a chef's foot.
The poor man began to jump around with the blade lodged all the way through to his sole.
"Ow! Fuck, shit!"
When the pitiful man finally regained control over his senses, his face paled. Behind him, all of the other chefs wheeling out a gigantic cake backed away.
'I'm sorry…'
Ixion could pardon Cecelia on the grounds of her status and necessity to Catatran.
The jester on the grounds that it was her job.
But this chef?
To act so profanely in front of the King, in front of other chefs? Other subjects of the King?
'Even tyranny has an image to uphold.'
Ixion stood up and took measured steps toward the man, who began backing away.
Ixion looked into the man's soul as he got closer and saw the seeds of darkness hidden in the murky swaths of his essence.
It wasn't a rotten soul, but a rotting soul.
Not that there were many pristine and radiant souls left in the world…
But even if the man's soul wasn't clean, that didn't mean Ixion was particularly happy about what he was going to do.
"Please! I'm sorry!"
The man screamed, then fell back, nearly falling into the cake, but a fast-acting woman slammed her body into him and sent the man tumbling forward and falling to the floor at Ixion's feet.
Ixion studied the man's terrified face, then crouched down and placed his hand on his cheek.
Ixion held the man's head a little off the ground and wiped away the wet tears that streaked down his face with his thumb.
Cecelia walked over and tried her best with words to contain the King.
"Your Majesty, don't do it."
She'd even addressed him by his title.
Yet, other than Cecelia and the weeping chef, the room was silent.
Ixion drew his hand away.
The chef's face fell to the floor, and his permanent stare grew vacant and hollow.
His soul had been shattered.
Ixion stood solemnly over the body for a couple of seconds.
It wasn't an act he particularly wanted to do, but even he didn't want the everyday man growing bold in his presence.
The regular subjects had to remain fearful of Ixion, giving the nobles more power.
Power that they could greedily use.
Ixion closed his eyes to hide his pained gaze, then clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. Ixion took a deep breath…
In the blink of an eye, he grew a sinister smile, spun away, and cheered:
"Now! Who's ready for some cake?"
The jester cheered.
"Me! Me!"